If you were to characterize human beings as floral arrangements, there would be no question: some people are definitely a dozen red long-stemmed
roses. They are elegant, consistently beautiful, the kind that are presented to
winners. In other words, everything I'm not. Turns out I'm a
Mixed Bouquet: chaotic, eclectic, and eccentric; you may find the
occasional carnation (a dreaded filler flower!), but otherwise, it's perfect for brightening a room. (Mixed
Bouquets can also be obtained cheap at the entrance to Safeway, but
that's another story.) Once I accepted my less-than-Rosy status, it was
easy to recognize other Mixed Bouquets, who can always be counted on
for a good time.
Not that I have anything against Roses! Oh, far from it! We need Roses to organize things, keep everyone calm, and gently tell us Mixed Bouquets when we're overdoing it. I've even written an elegy to them on this very blog (see "All Hail Bev!"). Roses are great. Really.
Whew! Glad I straightened that out. Didn't want anyone to think I'm Rose-ist.
But what if there are people in your life who want you to be a Rose when you're a Mixed Bouquet? It's easy to dodge Rose-seeking friends, but what if there are rosy "I-want-you-to-be's" in your family? Where do you hide? You can't just weed them out like so much baby's breath. Holidays become hideous cycle of questions all of which sound like, How come you're not a Rose?
So I did what any self-respecting Mixed Bouquet would do: I consulted a level-headed Rose friend.
She advised me to just ignore the bad stuff and float above the fray.
Ha ha! You first! Nice try, Rosie, but here on Planet Earth, the rest of us become exasperated, lash out and wind up curled in a fetal position, weeping in abject misery. Till the next holiday, when the cycle continues: lather, grind, repeat.
But there's nothing anyone can do about the fact that I am a Mixed Bouquet. My purpose is to provide color to an otherwise drab world! No matter how hard I try, I will never be presented to a sobbing debutante who just won a tiara.
Come to think of it, Roses may not have all the answers after all. Truth be told, you can now find long-stemmed red roses right at the entrance of Safeway.
Over there, next to the carnations.
Not that I have anything against Roses! Oh, far from it! We need Roses to organize things, keep everyone calm, and gently tell us Mixed Bouquets when we're overdoing it. I've even written an elegy to them on this very blog (see "All Hail Bev!"). Roses are great. Really.
Whew! Glad I straightened that out. Didn't want anyone to think I'm Rose-ist.
But what if there are people in your life who want you to be a Rose when you're a Mixed Bouquet? It's easy to dodge Rose-seeking friends, but what if there are rosy "I-want-you-to-be's" in your family? Where do you hide? You can't just weed them out like so much baby's breath. Holidays become hideous cycle of questions all of which sound like, How come you're not a Rose?
So I did what any self-respecting Mixed Bouquet would do: I consulted a level-headed Rose friend.
She advised me to just ignore the bad stuff and float above the fray.
Ha ha! You first! Nice try, Rosie, but here on Planet Earth, the rest of us become exasperated, lash out and wind up curled in a fetal position, weeping in abject misery. Till the next holiday, when the cycle continues: lather, grind, repeat.
But there's nothing anyone can do about the fact that I am a Mixed Bouquet. My purpose is to provide color to an otherwise drab world! No matter how hard I try, I will never be presented to a sobbing debutante who just won a tiara.
Come to think of it, Roses may not have all the answers after all. Truth be told, you can now find long-stemmed red roses right at the entrance of Safeway.
Over there, next to the carnations.
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